Kites

Each January the Ahmedabad sky is filled with a host of kites during Uttarayan. For a few special days most everyone in the capital city of Gujarat becomes a kite enthusiast, whether personally navigating their own winged wonder or merely standing upon one of the thousands of rooftops in the city and gazing up at the mesmerizing spectacle taking place in the sky above. Uttarayan is a festival celebrating the end of winter. The auspicious date on the Hindu calendar is also known as Makar Sankranti.

With the onset of harvest season, there is always hope for a brighter future. Although Gujarat is a dry state, spirits are high during this time. A group of youth have congregated on top of the roof of a school, and I make my way up a dark staircase and join them at the top. A few kites are rotated among the more eager youngsters, while the rest just enjoy the warmth of the sun and the sight of a thousand kites dancing in the heavens.

Flying kites was originally a hobby exclusively enjoyed by the Nawabs that ruled the region, but it soon spread to the common man. Just like the individuals on the ground who are guiding them with steady hands, the kites come in all shapes, sizes, and colours.  Families start building their kites months in advance. Unlike the girls of Gangnam, each handcrafted kite has a personality all its own.

A gentle breeze lifts the kites into the clear blue sky. The slightest adjustment from the kite flyer causes his aerial steed to change course. Part of the fun of kite flying is the competitive aspect. The kite strings are coated with fragments of glass, designed to slice through opposing kites without mercy. Friendly duels take place among kites sharing the same airspace. As one kite string slices through that of a foe, the victor soars on while the vanquished flutters back down to earth.

*****

Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country. ~ Anais Nin 

Arnab and the Plastic Factory

In most parts of the world men shave their chins. In South Korea the girls do. The guys are permanently trapped in a state of prepubescence, so the most they can hope for is some peach fuzz. The girls are not looking to get rid of any stubble, but the chin itself. Those with prominent jawlines or rectangular shaped heads get them chiseled down into more elegant forms. Chin shaving is just one of the many surgical procedures that are prevalent in the most superficial society on the planet. Modifications that endow the girl with a more three dimensional appearance are also common, such as nose jobs and breast augmentations.

Due to the high demand for cosmetic surgery, clinics can be found with almost the same frequency as coffee shops and convenience stores. Gangnam proudly promotes itself as the capital of medical tourism, with affordable prices luring in many Chinese and Japanese women. Subway stations are plastered with surgery advertisements. When I first moved to Seoul I stayed at a hotel with an in-house surgery clinic on the second floor. A van with tinted windows ferried customers directly from airport to the hotel, where they could get altered and rest in their hotel room without ever having to step outside during their recovery period.

While a little nip and tuck might increase the perceived societal worth of K-girls, nothing short of a full body transplant would help the large majority of the male populace. Usually they accompany the beauties, paying for all their purchases with their meagre yet hard earned salaries or from the allowance they get from their parents. The guys seem more like comic relief than leading men, varying in range from stone-faced businessmen to slack-jawed halfwits dressed in tight garments harkening back to the court jesters of yore. Shockingly and painfully, the girls are still enamoured with these unremarkable men while completely avoiding the breathtaking spectacle that is the Indo-Canadian Temptation.

*****

"All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them." ~ Galileo Galilei

Gentleman

The average Korean man lives with his parents until he has saved enough money for marriage, plays a lot of video games, spends a few years doing mandatory military service, avoids sitting beside me on subways, partakes in heavy drinking sessions with his buddies or colleagues, and occasionally dispenses solid relationship advice:

If you want just that she beat you

then you should keep annoying her

but if you want more than that

then you should treat her gently

A Mean Looking Booger

Regardless of language, religion, age, income, or intellectual capability, men from all over the world always have at least one topic of shared interest. One fine spring day, a Korean man and I were discussing a specific subset of this fascinating subject. 

Korean man: I think if she makeup perfectly and dress up then she will be more beautiful.  

Me: Yes, if she dresses up and covers her pimples she will be quite nice. I see a booger in her left nose hole though. 

Korean man: What is booger? "Arnab is a mean looking booger" - is it right? 

Me: No, that is bugger. Booger is a dried piece of snot. It is the thing you find when you pick your nose. 

Korean man: Ahh, I see.

End of the Long March

As my time in China came to an end, one of my final trips was to Yan'an. The small city in Shannxi province is a major stop on the red tourism circuit, as fans of Mao flock here to see the caves in which the Chairman once lived. The legendary Long March came to an end near Yan'an and a revolution was born. It was here that Mao and his comrades set up camp, and engineered their plans for domination of the Middle Kingdom.

From 1936 to 1948, the town functioned as the headquarters of the Communist Party of China. During World War II, the Japanese flattened the city through aerial bombing. The citizens stayed in cave dwellings during wartime. The Yangjialing house caves where Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai once lived and the accompanying auditorium and office buildings are the main stop for those on the Communist pilgrimage trail.

Yan'an is situated on a dusty plain surround by hills on all sides. The colossal Yan'an Revolutionary Memorial Museum, explains the tale of Mao, the rise of the Communist Party, and the corresponding increase in prosperity and power of a nation that had taken a back seat in world affairs until the past century. The museum had the the requisite Mao statue in the courtyard and gift store filled with Mao-morabilia. Apart from the propaganda pieces, a cliffside temple in the middle of the city is quite a sight to behold. Pagoda Hill also has some nice monuments and viewpoints on top. It is a relaxing spot to soak up the atmosphere after spending a long day basking in revolutionary glory.

We had a night train to catch to Beijing, but it seemed all the taxis were going in the opposite direction of the station after supper time. As the clock ticked ever closer to our departure time, my friend began to get jumpy. Finally we caught cab, but at the exact same moment two Chinese girls also caught it. My chivalrous nature took over, and I stepped aside and let them take the cab. The taxi driver refused to take them wherever they wanted to go and drove away. "What are you doing!? We have a train to catch!" my agitated travel buddy exclaimed. Seeing him gesticulate wildly, the girls asked if we needed any help. One of the two was ravishingly beautiful, and the other spoke a little English.

I showed the beauty my train ticket, and the other girl deduced that we wanted to go to the station. She suggested we cross the street and try there. I almost got run over by an oncoming truck, but the beauty pulled me to safety just in the nick of time. Some minutes later we found a taxi, and the ladies directed the driver to take us to the station posthaste. I bid them a melancholic farewell. Once in the cab, I wistfully remarked that I should have torn up the ticket and stayed in Yan'an - the "Cradle of Chinese Revolution". "My god, I have never seen anyone fall in love so fast." my friend said, shaking his head.

*****

"We think too small, like the frog at the bottom of the well. He thinks the sky is only as big as the top of the well. If he surfaced, he would have an entirely different view." - Mao Zedong 

Battlefield Korea

Some of my friends across the world have inquired about the current scenario in the war zone that is the Korean Peninsula. So far life goes on as usual, although the Canadian Embassy did issue a special bulletin about the tense situation:

The Government of Canada's travel advice for the Republic of Korea remains "Exercise normal security precautions". However, we advise Canadians to continue to monitor developments closely as tensions on the Korean Peninsula could escalate with little warning. 

Tensions have increased on the Korean peninsula as a result of North Korea's ongoing nuclear weapons development program. In April and December 2012, North Korea attempted to launch two missiles into orbit, and on February 12, 2013, performed a nuclear weapon test. Additional tests cannot be ruled out. On March 11, 2013, North Korea issued a statement declaring that the Korean Armistice Agreement is invalid. While past threats made by the North to nullify this agreement have gone unfulfilled, further provocative action could occur. Canadians in the Republic of Korea should be vigilant, monitor developments and follow the advice of local authorities.

South Koreans are astonishingly nonchalant about the possibility of being annihilated by the North. Most folks continue to spend their days absorbed by their smartphones, labouring for long hours at the office, reconstructing their facial features, or playing video games. This situation has been playing out for sixty years, so it has become background noise for the citizens of the South. Worrying about the daily trivialities of life already takes up all their waking hours, leaving little room for thought about the larger issues that affect us all.

Smartphone Envy

Me: It's Korean and very small.

American guy: Wait a minute… are we still talking about your phone?  

In the conformist Republic of Korea, citizens judge each other based on their appearance and possessions. Having the latest smartphone model is one such status marker. Many halfwits with low paying jobs or beauties with no discernable occupations can be seen walking around with the latest iPhone or Samsung Galaxy S flagship model in hand. My underpowered phone is not even available for sale in Korea and looked upon with scorn by the masses.

Ulsan and the Might of Hyundai

The port city of Ulsan hugs the coastline near Busan on the southeast shores of Korea. Hyundai's engineering might is on full display here, with both the world's largest car manufacturing factory and shipbuilding yard located within the city limits. With a population of just over a million well off inhabitants, Ulsan is easily South Korea's richest city based on GDP per capita.

Hyundai is among the handful of chaebols (conglomerates) that unofficially rule South Korea since its transition from a dictatorship to a democracy. Hyundai is involved in manufacturing cars and ships, operating department stores, and undertaking large civil engineering projects. During the Asian economic crisis of 1997, the Hyundai Group was broken up into several smaller, but still huge, chunks. Although separate legal entities now, control remains largely in the hands of a few family members of Hyundai's founding father Chung Ju Yung.

Despite the heavy industry that brings Ulsan its wealth, the the coastal waters have a pleasant hue. At the Daewangam Songnim park the coastline is characterized by jagged cliffs rising steeply from the waters, covered by a sprinkling of pine trees. Old men are precariously perched among various crags, fishing rods in hand. They are there to escape the constant nagging of their wives, and any fish they catch is just a spillover benefit of the carefree time spent away from home.

A Korean friend of mine lives in Ulsan, so I stay over at his place and enjoy a few meals with his family. A hearty breakfast is prepared by his mother, and lunch is at a neighbourhood diner that provides a significant amount of side dishes. At night we devour some pork belly at a Korean barbecue house and explore the university area. The city is famed for its whale meat, but I did not get my hands on any.

*****

"To reach a port, we must sail - sail, not tie at anchor - sail, not drift." - 

Franklin D. Roosevelt 

Dome Time

On a large parcel of land in a peninsula situated between Mumbai's Gorai Creek and the Arabian Sea, a gigantic dome rises into the sky. Sunlight shimmers off its golden exterior. I wear a long sleeved shirt to avoid any confusion. In 2009, the Global Vipassana Pagoda opened here. The monument to peace and harmony is not yet complete, with the final touches still being applied during my visit.

South Korea may be well known for its hollow plastic treasures, but the Vipassana Pagoda's claim to fame is that it is the largest hollow stone structure in the world. The largest stone dome without supporting pillars ever constructed, the impressive monument rises to an height of almost 100 meters. The exterior design is based on a Buddhist structure in Myanmar, and the pagoda has an expected lifespan of a thousand years.

The centre offers free ten day courses to everyone, and only asks for complete isolation from the pulls of modern day society during that time span in return. Oddly enough, India's largest amusement park is located adjacent to the meditative retreat. I had to share a crowded ferry with hundreds of families headed towards Essel World before I could experience the relative solitude of the monument.

There was a viewing hall inside the great dome, so we could witness the meditation sessions taking place within. Meditation centres always make me a bit uneasy, as I am never completely sure which of its inhabitants are actually sincere about their beliefs, which ones are faking it, and which ones are crazy.

*****

"White, black, or brown, a man is still a man. Whoever defiles his mind becomes miserable." - inscription found on the wall of the pagoda

Ha Long Bay

Several hours east of Hanoi lies Vietnam's most spectacular sight - Ha Long Bay. Thousands of jagged isles spring out of the Gulf of Tonkin, reminiscent of the karst formations I encountered in Guilin but on a much larger scale. A hundred vessel strong fleet of wooden ships ply the waters in the bay, carrying the tourists who make this one of Vietnam's most visited attractions.

As the legend goes, when Vietnam was threatened by invaders the gods sent forth a family of dragons to protect the nation from the foreign armada. The dragons cleared their throat emphatically, spitting out some jewels which turned into the limestone rocks that we see today. The invasion force promptly ran into the newly formed defensive shield and sunk deep into the depths, never to be seen again. The dragons descended into the bay after their work was finished and retired in the area, giving Ha Long Bay its name.

The waters of Ha Long Bay are a healthy shade of turquoise. I enjoy the view from the bow of the ship as we approach a dense cluster of islands. Lunch is provided on board the vessel, and then it docks beside an extremely large and awe-inspiring cave complex. Sung Sot Cave is a geological wonder, full of surprises and stalactites.

Some ships have been constructed to resemble ancient junks, their distinctive battened sails standing tall. In secluded coves that could function as secret hideaways of pirates from days gone by, a few vessels drop anchor. Kayaks are provided for visitors interested in exploring the shoreline of some islets in more detail.

While most of the tourists wander off on their kayaks, I am surrounded by a trio of Vietnamese ladies. Blessed with good taste, they seize the opportunity for an impromptu photo shoot as soon as they get a moment alone with me. They invite me for dinner the following night, but I must politely decline due to my packed travel schedule. I will be en route to Luang Prabang in Laos by then.

Girls Day

I was having dinner with a Korean guy I had met while traveling in Wando. As we ate, the large screen TV inside the restaurant was showing the weekly countdown of the latest K-pop hits. When a idol group known as Girls Day started performing their latest single, every male head in the restaurant swivelled towards the screen. The girls were busy fiddling with their smart phones and hand mirrors, so they were blissfully unaware of the happenings around them.

Korean guy: Why you don't have Korean girlfriend?
Me: They are scared of me.
KG: Oh, really? Maybe they fraid to speak to you.
Me: Yes, and the ones that are not afraid don't like my style. Clothes, hair, skin, glasses. They complain about everything.
KG: But you looks like handsome.
Me: I know, but they don't realize it.

At this moment one of the effeminate boy groups was prancing about on the TV screen.

KG: You should dress like that.
Me: Never! I will not wear short tight pants and thick glasses without lenses, put on makeup, carry a large purse, or have the same haircut that everyone else does.
KG: But that is what Korean girls like.
Me: I won't dress like that. Also, they complain about my body hair.
KG: Girls especially hates your arm, chest, and leg hair.
Me: And my back hair.
KG: You have back hair!? You are beast.

The Hungry Tide - Sundarbans

The Sundarbans are the largest continuous mangrove network on Earth, covering an area of over 6000 square kilometres. Two centuries ago, it was three times its present size. A combination of human development and natural phenomena have led to its shrinkage, threatening the very existence of the royal Bengal tigers and other wildlife that call these mangroves home. I took a tour of the Sundarbans while visiting with family in Kolkata.

Spread across a delta cutting its way through India and Bangladesh, it opens up to the Bay of Bengal. India's largest tiger reserve and national park can be found here. Dozens of small communities are scattered throughout the region. Boats are the primary form of transportation from one islet to another, through the Sundarbans' many rivers, streams, and vast expanses of open water.

I usually abhor the elementary school nature of organized tours, with their set timetables, unnecessary hand-holding, and annoying companions who you are forced to spend large tracts of time with in close quarters. However this tour was organized by West Bengal Tourism, so it was bound to be entertaining and unpredictable. After some initial bumbling, the tour operators did redeem themselves with generous servings of hearty Bengali fare during each meal.

After a long bus ride from West Bengal Tourism's head office in Kolkata, we were dropped off on the main street of a dusty village. A ten minute walk later we reached the pier, and waited for our ship for  a lengthy period of time. There were no bathroom facilities around, and the bladders of many a lady were bursting at the seams. They had to go aboard a docked ship and use the toilet there.

News slowly traveled through the tour group that we would have to take another boat to reach our actual ship, as there was a bridge on the river that was too low for our vessel to sail under. A rickety raft was overloaded with the tourists, who were then transferred to the barge where we would spend the next two days and one night. On the return journey, the raft had been freshly painted. I was left with an irremovable black tar stain along the backside of my designer jeans as a souvenir.

We enjoyed the tranquil scenes of the idyllic coastline as we slowly sailed by, stopping at several nature reserves on the way. As darkness fell, the boat anchored for the night. Everyone came to the top deck to enjoy a night viewing of Bodyguard, an entertaining Bollywood flick about the musclebound titular character and his seduction by (not of) the lady he was protecting.

Famed for its man-eating tigers, the Sundarbans can be a dangerous place. Many villagers have lost their lives to tiger attacks. At one point, 50-60 victims were consumed annually. Why the tigers of this region enjoy human flesh as part of their meal plan is not yet known, but is believed to be hereditary. Despite repeated efforts, I did not spot any of the magnificent beasts.

A Bahraini Day

I was stuck for 12 hours in the Fiumicino Airport in Rome, not for pleasure or for a layover, but due to a delay of a Bahrain Air flight to Mumbai. For a large airport, Fiumicino has little to offer those have no particular fascination with luxury handbags. Gucci, Armani, Prada, Dolce & Gabbana, Versace, and Fendi stores are peppered through the airport. There was no word from the airline on how long the delay would last or if the flight would be cancelled altogether.

The other passengers grew increasingly agitated and spent their time yelling at the Italian airport staff, two of whom left as shells of their former selves. After becoming a handbag expert (giving me something to discuss in the future with purse swinging Korean men), finishing a novel, babysitting some children with the assistance of their mother's iPad tablet, eating some pizza, and napping, an announcement was made that the flight would not be cancelled. Five hours later we were on our way to the oil-rich Kingdom of Bahrain, but anyone with a connecting flight had long since missed it.

A fellow passenger commented on my extraordinary patience and coolness during the whole ordeal. The Indian men who had caused a commotion at the airport protested, saying they were also even tempered fellows. They had only pretended to loose their cool for entertainment purposes as they had nothing else to do during the flight delay.

We would have to spend a day in Manama until we could be put on the next flight to Mumbai. I spent the better part of a day exploring the mosques, skyscrapers, and markets of Bahrain's capital. The locals abhor doing any physical labour, as black gold runs through their veins. The heavy lifting is done by labourers from the Indian subcontinent and South East Asia. The population of 1.2 million is split evenly between citizens and non-nationals.

*****

An inexhaustible good nature is one of the most precious gifts of heaven, spreading itself like oil over the troubled sea of thought, and keeping the mind smooth and equable in the roughest weather. - Washington Irving

Seoul's Symphony of Fire

Each year, the city of Seoul hosts an international fireworks competition on the banks of the Han River. Similar to Vancouver's Celebration of Light, massive crowds gather to see several countries present pyrotechnics demonstrations choreographed to a musical score. A winner is announced at the end, but by then most of the crowd has dispersed and begun making their way to the nearest subway station.

With hundreds of thousands in attendance, it is a nice chance to see a cross section of the entire society in one place. Families and oldsters arrive hours in advance, setting up their picnic mats and relaxing by the river all day. There is barely any room to manoeuvre, as the whole river bank is covered by tarps, people, and bottles of soju.

As night approaches, couples and groups arrive and stand in front of the picnic crowd so that they can enjoy unrestricted views of the fireworks bonanza. The sitters loudly complain about the standees who have arrived after them and are now blocking their much anticipated view. By and large, their gripes are ignored even after they start chanting "Sit down! Sit down!" or the Korean equivalent.

The journey to get to Yeouido, the island in the middle of the city from where the fireworks can best be viewed, is a spectacle that parallels the actual fireworks extravaganza in entertainment value.  The subway is packed tighter than a Korean male into his skinny jeans. I had to transfer from one subway line to another to get to Yeoudio, but even the transfer station was extremely congested.

I circumvented the lineup by going one extra station in the opposing direction, and then crossing back onto a train heading in the correct direction there. At the destination station, bodies poured out of the subway and slowly bubbled to the surface from its subterranean depths. Wave after wave of black haired heads poured out the exits of the station, greeted by their first fireworks of the night.

*****

Boom, boom, boom

Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon

- "Firework" by Katy Perry